


old habits

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: this must be just like living in paradise [8]
Category: The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: It’s hard to unlearn habits and move on.





	old habits

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Vince needed his own side story and also I’m sad n I love him. It’s been a long week. Written on my phone and like probably atrocious.

Logically, they all know they don’t need to worry about Lola. Much. Even when Vince and Tommy were still romantically entangled with her, she was defending them as much as they defended her. They still see her often, she still works with the band, but they’re not together _together_ \- well, she and Nikki are - and some times its difficult to rewrite muscle memory.

Usually it’s harmless, it’s Tommy leaning against her or Vince hip checking her, or gentle, friendly moments of contact.

Tommy slips up once, twice, a few times, catches himself before he gives her the wrong label when people ask who she is;

“She’s our - _Lola_. Our Lola. Our assistant.” He’ll correct himself in the face of the sceptical assholes demanding to know who she is and where she stands with them. It’s an old habit; she’s not their girlfriend anymore.

It’s fine. It’s _harmless_. It’s just muscle memory, habit, that’s all.

But Vince starts yawning fifteen minutes before an interview, and without having to be asked, Lola’s got a coffee for him, the way she remembers he likes it. It’s so simple, but he gives a fond, thankful smile in return. When she hands it over, he had to fight the urge to kiss her temple. When she let’s go of the styrofoam cup, the urge fades.

Occasionally, very occasionally, when it’s just the two of them and she’s in a good mood, she’ll call him Lover Boy like she once did, and something about it makes his heart beat a little harder. But he grins, laughs, and makes a joke, though his hands twitch like he wants to wrap her up in a hug. Sometimes he does, can’t help himself.

They’re on tour again, but it’s different; he’s the only one sober while the rest of them are living it up, and he’s got endless groupies to entertain him, but it feels _hollow_. So there come moments, sparing moments, of gentle human connection that he leans into. It’s the first tour he’s been on since Razzle’s death, and he’s never needed to fight these impulses before, he’s always been so good, had known how much Sharise had been adamant that he stay away from Lola before all that shit went down. But maybe he just missed the times when they all felt on top of the world.

He finds Lola in the break room of the radio studio they’re being interviewed in. She’s resting her forehead against the cabinets, waiting for the kettle to boil, wearing an amusing juxtaposition of booty shorts and fishnets with a blazer over the top. Her ’_punk-professional_’ look had always brought him joy.

He wraps his arms around her, rests his chin on her shoulder, and she leans into him.

“Hey Vinny,” she breathes; even after all this time she doesn’t even have to look to know it’s him. He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything, just holds her a little tighter.

Once the kettle boils, Vince moves away, not far, but he’s no longer holding her. Instead, he’s leaving on the counter a few feet away, his arms crossed. She asks if he wants a coffee and her eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“No thank you, baby,” he answers automatically, but Lola pauses, creamer in hand, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s been a long while since he’d called her that. Silence hangs in the air, but after a beat, Lola starts moving again, making her coffee. Vince let’s out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“How’s Skylar?” Lola asked, and Vince sighs.

“I call when I can, but Sharise won’t let me speak to her when it gets too late at night and I’m shit at all this timezone junk,” he complains, and Lola makes a sympathetic hum and pats his shoulder. “She’s good, but I miss her.” He admits.

“I’m sure she misses you too.”

Vince is ninety percent certain she won’t remember this conversation, he knows her will enough to tell that she’s on autopilot, running on smack and whiskey most likely, but the reassurance is appreciated nonetheless. She’s spent enough time high to be able to some hazy sort of self control; she’s not nearly as reckless and hedonistic as when he’d first met her, though sometimes he misses it.

It’s hard to unlearn everything you know about someone, especially as close as they’d been.

She runs into him, or rather, falls onto him, at the club where they’re drinking after the show. Her heels are ridiculous and she’s already unsteady on her feet, so she’s just glad that there’s someone to catch her when she falls back over the arm of a sofa.

“Vinny!” She sounds delighted, legs still over the arm of the chair, and Vince takes a moment to orientate himself in the situation before he’s helping her sit up.

“Hey Lola, you alright?” And she’s sitting beside him now, on the two person sofa, but she’s still got her legs thrown over his.

“Fine, wonderful, fine!” She announces, before turning and calling over the nearest waitress, asking for another drink. “I lost Nikki in the crowd somewhere,” she huffs, a little put out, but Vince wraps an arm around her, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sure you’ll find him, babe,” he says gently, and Lola leans against him, bringing her legs down so she could tuck herself up by his side. Vince knew, in a sort of idle way that he didn’t really want to acknowledge, that though he’d fallen in love with Sharise, he’d never really had the chance to truly move on from Lola; he’d just shifted from one to the next, and Lola has stepped down but she’d never really left.

“You used to call me that all the time,” she’s quiet, her head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to kiss her.

“You’re high,” he says finally, and though Lola laughs, it’s humorless.

“I’m always high.”

“I’m not,” he says it a little forlornly, and she turns to face him; she’s so close, her eyes at so shiny and dark.

“I know,” swallowing thickly, she pauses, licks her lips and says, “is it strange that I miss you?”

“I’m right here,” he tells her, voice raw and genuine because I’m that moment he knows exactly what she means. When she kisses him, he kisses her back, warm and familiar, and he can taste booze on her lips, and she smells like something fruity and intoxicating; he wants to pull her closer but knows it’ll hurt them both if it goes much further.

“I miss you too, baby,” he tells her with a soft smile. Lola presses her laugh to his shoulder.

“Oh, Lover Boy, I’m sorry,” she sighs, genuine apology in her words, “I promise I’m trying to remember what the fuck discretion is,” something about her phrasing makes him think she’s paraphrasing someone, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

“I should go, you’re doing well, but I know it can be tricky in your state,” he pets her head fondly, but Lola shakes her head and stands.

“I should find Nikki,” she says with a half smile and more self control than he’d honestly assumed she’d had. Vince nods, and with that, Lola disappears into the crowd, and Vince beckons over a groupie to take her place.

Vince isn’t sure how he feels; Nikki and Lola, for all that they’re officially together, have never been traditional, so even if Nikki knows what went down, there’s no bad blood.

“Lo’s always had a lot of love in her heart for you guys,” Nikki shrugs when Vince tries to apologise, “doesn’t mean she loves me any less.” And he’s so casually confident that it hurts a little, but there’s also a sense of relief that comes with it. Nikki was secured enough to not be jealous, and maybe Vince wasn’t the only one a little caught up in the past.


End file.
